Frozen In Place
by Sevvyn
Summary: A treasure hunter by trade, a young Nord by the name of Ariana Iceblade finds herself stuck between a rock and a hard place – where will she go? Who can she trust? What will she become? Rated T for now, rating may change. Frequent updates.
1. Prologue

Frozen In Place

Main Character: Ariana Iceblade

Pairing: Ariana x ?

Summary: A treasure hunter by trade, the young Nord Ariana Iceblade finds herself stuck between a rock and a hard place – where will she go? Who can she trust? What will she become?

* * *

_Thu-thu-thud, thu-thu-thud, thu-thu-thud…_

The woman opened her eyes at the familiar sound of horses' hooves pounding heavily on the earth. In the pre-dawn light, the horses seemed to fly past – their riders shouting encouragements to the beasts, urging them to go even faster.

'_Divines, someone must be in a hurry_,' she thought to herself, '_The sun isn't up yet. What is so important that they can't wait for a few hours_? _Is there some sort of race going on?_'

The woman sighed. With all of that noise, there was no way she'd fall back asleep. Groggily, she started to sit up in her sleeping bag, intent on preparing for the day ahead, only to jolt at the distinctive clang of steel on steel. Making a split-second decision, the woman scrambled to hide herself and her things in the branches of a nearby tree as sounds of battle became increasingly louder. She barely dared to breathe as more men on horses rode by - this second wave of riders went at a slower pace than the first, no longer pursuing, but combing the woods. They were obviously searching for something.

'_But what_?'

From her vantage point she scanned the area, trying to discern what was going on. As a shadow approached, she leaned forward to get a better look. Unfortunately, that small shift in weight was the straw that broke the camel's back – or in this case, the movement that broke the tree's branch. The young tree was unable to support the combined weight of her pack (which contained her armor, weapons, and tools, among other things) and herself. This sent her crashing to the ground, drawing the attention of whoever was in the immediate vicinity.

"Hey! I've found another one, sir!" called an unfamiliar voice. "Over here! She was hiding up in the trees, and tried to launch a sneak attack. Unluckily for her, she seems to have picked the wrong tree. Seems to have taken a nasty fall. Might be going into shock."

"Hmm. That may be a problem. Heal her enough to speak – we may have some… _questions_ for her later. Bind her, and put her with the others. Oh, and make sure to keep an eye up in the trees. Who knows how many more of these damned Stormcloaks are lying in wait? Double the guard around the prisoners."

"Yes sir, General Tullius!"

As unfamiliar, imposing forms converged on her from all sides, she seemed to shrink in on herself. Overwhelmed and confused, as well as hurt from the fall, it came as a welcome relief when darkness swept across her vision.

* * *

A/N: Hooray! After years and years of reading other people's fics, I've finally gone ahead and written my own! Unfortunately, I do not have a beta, so I will just do the best that I can and try to make this sound coherent.

This will be mainly focused on Ariana's adventures. No pairing has been decided yet, though I do have a few (male) characters in mind; I'm thinking of making a poll, but I need more suggestions! Through this story, I want to try to explore the characters of Skyrim and go on a journey of my own into the world of writing. It may be boring in the beginning, but I plan to switch up some things to make it a bit more interesting. If you have any questions or suggestions, please review and share them with me! :)

Much love,

7


	2. Chapter 1: The Road To Sovngarde

Frozen In Place

Main Character: Ariana Iceblade

Pairing: Ariana x ?

Summary: A treasure hunter by trade, the young Nord Ariana Iceblade finds herself stuck between a rock and a hard place – where will she go? Who can she trust? What will she become?

* * *

Awareness returned to her bit by tiny bit. First, she noticed the slow, rhythmic movement of a carriage. Then came the sounds of creaking wood and horses hooves, of faraway conversations carried on the wind. Attempting to stretch, she discovered that her hands and feet were bound. Realization dawned upon her as the memories of what happened came back to her. Then, and only then, did she open her eyes.

No one had yet noticed that she was awake, so she took the opportunity to observe her surroundings, and discovered that there were three Nord men – a muscled blonde, a lanky brunette, and an imposing man with red-gold hair – being transported in the carriage with her. All four of them had their hands and feet bound tightly with rope, and for some reason, the redhead to her right was gagged as well. Brown eyes clashed with blue as the red-haired man met her searching eyes. His eyes seemed to pierce her, seeking her strengths and judging her weaknesses. Struggling to keep a straight face, she looked away, ending… whatever that was. At that moment, the carriage began to descend down a very bumpy hill, and she gasped as she was suddenly made aware of her own injuries. The blonde man heard her and, realizing that she had awoken, began to address her.

"Hey, you. Finally awake! You were trying to cross the border right? Walked right into that imperial ambush, same as us," he said, gesturing towards the red-haired man and himself, "And that thief over there."

'That thief over there,' the brunette, immediately took offense.

"Damn you Stormcloaks!" he spat. ""Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy – if they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." He looked away from the blonde man, and faced the woman.

"You there. You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants–"

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," the blonde interjected loudly.

Apparently, the man driving the carriage had had enough of the chatter, and yelled at the prisoners to quiet down. Ignoring the guard, the thief gestured toward the redhead and his unusual bindings.

"What's wrong with him, huh?"

"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!" the blonde stated vehemently.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?" the thief said, disbelieving. "You're the leader of the rebellion… but if they've captured you… Oh, gods, where are they taking us?"

Subdued, the blonde replied in Ulfric's stead: "I don't know where we're going… but Sovngarde awaits."

"No!" The thief began to panic. "This can't be happening. This isn't happening!"

The Nord woman watched the exchange quietly, trying to absorb as much information from the conversation as she could. Inwardly, she was cursing the gods for their poor sense of humor – surely they could have found other ways to amuse themselves than putting her on the road to the chopping block just as she was about to return home for the first time in more than a decade? She had done nothing wrong that she could think of. In fact, she hadn't even broken the law in the last five years! Well, except for that one time... Still, her money, treasures, trophies, titles, letters, gifts from her old friends – all of it would be gone. _She_ would be gone. She wondered what her old friend Farkas would think if he knew what was about to happen.

"…A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."

"Rorikstead. I'm… I'm from Rorikstead," stated the thief. "What about you?"

He had directed the last statement at the woman across from them. She stared at him for a moment, and eventually decided it could hardly do any harm to tell them.

"I grew up in Whiterun. That has always been home to me, even if I've been away the last ten years. I was… just heading back. I didn't realize how bad things had become here." She said this with her head held high. Whatever was coming, she would face it head on.

'_At least until my head comes off,_' she thought to herself. Shaking her head, she chuckled at her own morbid humor and stared off into the distance. '_Divines, why is this happening now?_'

They were all silent for a short while, until a guard rode up on horseback to report to his superiors.

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting in Helgen!"

"Good! Let's get this over with."

'_Oh, gods. It really is true. We're going to be killed_.'

Suddenly, it seemed as though she was looking through someone's eyes. Hearing with someone else's ears. Everything became detached and she could no longer move as she listened to the thief's pitiful appeal to those heartless gods, the Divines Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, and Akatosh. The gods were the ones who had abandoned her to such a cruel fate. She was but twenty-seven! There was so much left for her to live for!

"Helgen? I used to be sweet on a girl from there. I wonder…"

The blonde rebel seemed intent on inane chatter. Surprisingly, it helped. As he continued talking, she found herself slowly relaxing and settling back into her own skin. Resigning herself to her fate, she began to listen intently as the rebel and the thief swapped stories, occasionally putting in her own two cents. If she was going to die, she might as well die among those she knew well enough to consider friends.

As they approached and entered the village, a crowd of onlookers appeared. One boy, sitting on a porch, seemed surprised by their appearance.

* * *

_"Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?" _

_"You need to go inside, little cub."_

_"Why? I want to watch the soldiers!"_

_"Inside the house. Now."_

_"Yes, papa."_

* * *

The carriage jolted to a stop.

"Let's go. Shouldn't keep the guards waiting for us," said the blonde.

"No, I don't suppose that would be a very good idea, now would it?" the woman replied, standing up to exit the carriage.

The thief stood up quickly, and began to protest, his panic evident.

"No, wait! We're not rebels!"

"Face your death with some courage, thief."

"You've got to tell them we weren't with you, this is a mistake!" he cried.

"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time!" the woman in armor called out. She appeared to be an Imperial Captain, judging by the helm and armor that she wore. The young guard next to her began to read from a list of names in a leather-bound ledger. One by one, the carts of prisoners were emptied and they were moved to stand near the block.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."

As the dignified Jarl of Windhelm prowled forward with his back straight and his head held high, the blonde called out a goodbye.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric."

"Ralof of Riverwood."

The newly-named Ralof calmly and silently took his place near the front of the group of prisoners.

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!"

Lokir started to run. He hadn't even made it forty paces when he was shot down by one of the Imperial archers.

* * *

_"Papa!"_

_"Damn it, cub! I told you to go inside!"_

_"Why would they do that to him, papa? Why would they kill him?"_

_"Because he was a bad man."_

_"He didn't look bad to me, he just looked scared! Who was he?"_

_"Go back inside cub! We'll be having a _talk_ later."_

_"But, papa!"_

_"Now!"_

* * *

"Anyone else feel like running?" the officer shouted angrily, making a point to glare at each and every person present.

When no one dared to move, her partner went back to his list, glanced at the remaining woman, and looked down at his list again before pausing.

"You there. Step forward."

He waited a moment for her to come closer, before speaking in a softer voice.

"Who… are you?"

She stared at him blankly. They didn't even know who she was, and they were going to execute her? What in Oblivion? Were these Imperials stupid as well as murderous?

"I am Ariana Iceblade," she spat. "Of Whiterun, returning from Cyrodiil."

"Whiterun?" the guard paled slightly as he wrote her name at the bottom of the list. "You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinswoman."

He turned to the officer next to him.

"Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list."

The Imperial Captain didn't even give her a second glance.

"Forget the list. She goes to the block."

"By your orders, Captain." He looked back at Ariana and said, "I'm sorry, kinswoman. At least you'll die here in your homeland. Follow the captain, prisoner."

* * *

A/N: Oooooh, darn. I ended up mostly going with the game script on this one, but I _did_ throw in some little twists. And you got some little tidbits about Ariana's past! 1,500 words is a pretty good chapter length, I think. I'll keep trying to increase the length and detail as we go on. :)

More importantly, what do you think? Questions, comments? Things I could do better? Pairing suggestions? Just want to chat? R&R! I'll happily reply to as many as I can.

Much love,

7


	3. Chapter 2: Fearless In Death

Frozen In Place

Main Character: Ariana Iceblade

Pairing: Ariana x ?

Summary: A treasure hunter by trade, the young Nord Ariana Iceblade finds herself stuck between a rock and a hard place – where will she go? Who can she trust? What will she become?

* * *

As Ariana moved to join the rest of the prisoners, she noticed a short-haired man at the very front, facing the prisoners. Although he was dressed in the garb of the Legion, it was hard to tell his station – he didn't wear a captain's helm, yet the others seemed to defer to him. He had a very sour look on his face as his eyes roved over the prisoners.

"Look at him," Ralof whispered. She hadn't even realized that he had been standing next to her. "General Tullius, the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him." He gestured toward a pair of Altmer standing by with peculiar grins on their pointed faces. "I bet they had something to do with this."

The General's eyes suddenly stopped their searching, settling on the bound form of Ulfric Stormcloak. Tullius scowled before addressing the man.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to _murder_ his king and usurp his throne. _You_ started this war, _you_ plunged Skyrim into chaos! And now, the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!" shouted Tullius.

The other prisoners looked on silently. Ulfric made no move to reply. All was silent for a moment – it was as though time had frozen.

_RREAAAARRGGGHRRRN!_

A strange sound broke the silence. Anger and malice given form, it fell down upon them like a hammer on an anvil, startling everything back into motion. Guards unsheathed their weapons as prisoners' muscles tensed and everyone looked to the sky.

"What… what was that?" one of the guards asked.

"It's nothing. Carry on!"

"Yes, General Tullius!" the captain replied. She turned to a priestess who had been standing off to the side. "Give them their last rites."

The woman in tan robes stepped forward. She raised her hands in the air, fingers extended and palms facing the prisoners, and began to recite.

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you—"

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!" a burly Nord with dark red hair interrupted the Priestess, striding up to the block. Ariana listened to this interaction with interest.

'_The _Eight_ Divines? These Legionnaires seem to take every opportunity to deny Nord heritage and beliefs and throw it in their faces, don't they_? _It takes two armies to persist a war, after all. Perhaps if they wouldn't be so uncaring about those they insult, it would never have come to this. Mutual ignorance.'_ Ariana thought to herself.

That was one of the main goals of the Stormcloak movement – the freedom to practice their religion and worship Talos (the Ninth Divine, belief in whom had been systematically and violently suppressed by Thalmor Justiciars) openly and without fear of persecution was something that many Nords felt was important. Talos' story was one of glory and honor, values that all Nords are brought up to revere. For the governors of the Empire to deny the Nords' historically fundamental concepts was seen by the Nords as a betrayal of their people.

"As you wish," the Priestess sniffed haughtily before walking off.

Impatient, the rebel pressed on, seeming more irritated with the slight to his Divine than afraid of his impending death.

"Come on, I haven't got all morning."

As he was forced to kneel down in the dirt, with a boot on his back holding him down, the Nord added one last parting shot: "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"

Ariana wouldn't tear her eyes away. She would bear witness to his death with respect. To look away as he died would be to deny that he was worthy of recognition for his deeds in life. His bravery in the face of despair had won him that small honor, at least in her eyes. She hardly had to worry about the nightmares if she wasn't going to live through another night, right?

A deep breath as muscles strained to lift a heavy axe, a _whoosh_ of air as the axe fell, a spray of warm blood, and it was over. The red hair, now so much redder, became slick and wet with the man's lifeblood as it was left to dribble out on the dirt.

Members of the audience screamed and shouted, one at a time, as if in some morbid play where each actor needed himself to be heard. Some cried for the bloodshed to stop, others called for justice, and still more wanted the bloody death to continue.

Ralof, at her side, spoke softly with a sigh.

"As fearless in death as he was in life."

She turned to look up at the man next to her, only to see that he was far away. Maybe he was remembering a glorious battle with that same red-haired warrior. Perhaps they had shared a drink, once upon a time? Stories around the campfire in the dead of winter?

"Next, the Nord in the rags."

Ariana was startled from her thoughts as another unearthly roar shook the sky, louder and likely closer this time. She wasn't the only one. Many of the guards had their hands on their hilts, although at least they hadn't yet drawn their swords. The listkeeper turned to his captain.

"There it is again. Did you hear that?"

"I said, next prisoner," the Captain insisted loudly, ignoring the rising concern of her subordinates.

Looking around for a moment, trying to locate the "next prisoner," something clicked. Ariana hadn't realized it initially, but _she_ was the only Nord in the company wearing rags. All of the other prisoners, even Ralof, were wearing some sort of armor. Only hers had been taken from her, likely when she was unconscious. The Intricate Armor — the only thing her father had left her, and a relic of times long passed — and Frostbite, an invaluable gift from one of her oldest friends. They had been taken! Oh, but gods, she had other things to worry about, didn't she?

"To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy." Listkeeper continued to try to coax her, but she wasn't about to move. Frozen in place, her head turned toward Ralof and his eyes met hers. Her gave her a short, sharp nod of his acceptance to her silent plea before she turned back and marched forward to meet her doom.

'_At least I will be remembered for a little while longer. Perhaps I'll even be missed_,' she thought to herself, still bitter about the loss of her possessions. '_And now at least I'll have a chance to be with my family in Sovngarde. See my father face to face for the first time_. _Maybe cuss him out for dying and leaving me in that damned orphanage_.'

Having already wasted more than enough time, Ariana Iceblade walked briskly to the block, doing her best to ignore the blood that was already soaking into the wood, and the severed head that had been left on the ground. That was when she noticed it.

Something felt… off. It was as though the air had become heavier, thicker with some unnamable substance. As she was forced to her knees before her executioner, her eyes focused on something in the distance. As he raised his axe, a black shape flew through the sky, releasing a terrifying sound — the same horrible noise that they had already heard twice that morning. As the black shadow crashed down upon the top of a nearby tower, the headsman's axe fell… four feet from its mark. The headsman himself couldn't maintain his footing as the ground shook, and had dropped the axe onto the foot of the imperial captain, severing it.

Ariana raised her disbelieving eyes to the top of the tower, and took a moment to inwardly cower in fear. It truly was a beast of legend. Black as night, as long as a tower was tall and half the height, covered in spiny scales and spikes sharper than any sword, eyes that burned golden… there was no doubt in her mind that the creature could be anything but a—

"Dragon!"

* * *

A/N: It seems that my average chapter length will be about 1600 words per chapter, and let me tell you, there will likely be MANY chapters. I've got a basic outline for the first few quests and twists in the main questline already set up, and I'm just working on elaborating it for you at the moment. I'm actually thinking of changing the rating to M. I just realized that I've been describing a lot of blood recently… this is Skyrim, after all. How does anyone expect to get through a fic without mentioning a lot of blood? Still, I've got plans to touch on some adult themes (but not delve too heavily), so it's probably for the best. What do you think? R&R!

Questions for reviewers: Am I being too wordy when I describe things? What about my phrasing? Does it seem weird (in a bad way)? What do you think of Ariana? Sorry about the flood, but I really want some feedback. I've never done this before, and, although this story has gotten over 100 views, I haven't gotten a ton of commentary.

I know I've been doing some pretty rapid updates (Three in as many days? Really?), but it won't always be like this. I've got a lot about to start going on in my life so we'll see whether things go to hell or not. ;)


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